Becoming Edward
by m101cookies
Summary: Edward Willis, NOT EDWARD CULLEN, is Twilight's #1 Fan, and has longed to be a part of Twilight. Life sucks when you get what you want. By a twist of fate, he gets his wish, and he discovers what events make and break Edward Cullen--the hard way. B/E
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER:**

Me: C'mon. You can do it!

Stephenie Meyer: I-I can't…

Me: DO IT!

Stephenie Meyer: Fine… *signs contract that gives me the Twilight Saga*

Me: !

*wakes up screaming ""*

Me: Awwwww, man!

**Prologue:**

I have read Twilight.

Not unusual, in most cases.

But my name is Edward Willis; I am a guy with the same name as the protagonist. Does that not sound weird?

But even worse: I loved it. And I read the whole way through the series. And scarier yet: I LOVED IT. I adored all of the characters and hung on Bella's every word. I reread and reread it over and over. I was first in line to buy Breaking Dawn, and Twilight Lexicon is my best friend. All over my room are large posters with quotes of interest from the Twilight Saga. I am the biggest fan girl in this history of history. Not fan boy; that is just some acronym created for 4th graders to remember conjunctions. I'm not worthy of it; I am a screaming fan-girl.

I learned piano, and take is twice a week to be like Edward Cullen. I read Wuthering Heights once a week to be like Alice. I accompany my sister on shopping trips and carry the bags to be not only like Jasper, but to see what Alice sees. I completely rule academics like my vampire pals. I go hiking and I've found a meadow of my own.

My parents worried at first; they actually took me to a therapist. The therapist stated that although my need for Twilight was unhealthy, it was actually having a good impact on my life; I was gaining musical talent, I was going outside more, I was into classics, and there was even some family time. So my parents relented and let me be.

And there is not a fact in the Twilight Saga that I do not know. I was in love; and unfortunately, was solely in-love with the Twilight Saga because girls thought I was gay.

And no, I'm not hung on Bella; I don't fantasize of riding her in the shower or her whipping me; I love the story, the words, every strange exchange between Bella and Edward, and how the other characters interact. I have gone so far as to writing from their point of view in a form of an autobiography…for ALL of the characters. Stephenie Meyer is a GENIUS!

And every June 8th, my birthday, I blow out the candles with one wish on my mind: _I want to be a part of Twilight. _

Life sucks when you get what you want.


	2. 1: Fever, Fire, and Crooked Smiles

**DISCLAIMER:**

Me: C'mon. You can do it!

Stephenie Meyer: I-I can't…

Me: DO IT!

Stephenie Meyer: Fine… *signs contract that gives me the Twilight Saga*

Me: !

*wakes up screaming ""*

Me: Awwwww, man!

**Playlist:**

Although the songs did not have ANY influence over the chapter, having them pound into my head was not only welcome, but allowed me to write without stopping due to writer's block.

Love Drunk- Boys Like Girls

Doll House- Pricilla Renee

And I did actually do research on the Spanish Influenza; for about an hour. I at first thought that I would SHOW you what it was, like all good authors do. But Edward Willis, biggest fan-boy of all time, not knowing the basics of the Spanish Influenza? Ha, not likely. So, enjoy! And to all of those who skip authors notes, then bah-hum-bug!

Chapter 1: Fever, Fire, and Crooked Smiles

Nothing triggered it; isn't it something like, the day after my birthday, I wake up in Twilight?

Well, today sure wasn't June 9th;my birthday was about two weeks ago. Today was June 20th. ; I don't know the exact date, as it's summer; heck, it could be July for all I know! But the thing is that, triggered or not, I woke up in a hospital bed; it didn't look like a hospital bed; everything was dirtier, messier, and everything ached. I thought they numb you or something in the hospital; but there was no IV sticking some cold medicine into me; I could barely breath. It was horrible; I was hot and uncomfortable in a stiff bed, and I didn't have the strength to sit up in bed, or even to breath properly.

Soon I forgot to think; I was starting to mumble to myself. "They said Vampires are bats; I proved 'em wrong, Ali! I did, I did!" I mumbled, summoning some strength to turn over on my side when a door opened a voice came clear, saying, "Well, Mr. Mason, I do believe that the statistics are not in your favor. Your fever is worse, and as you can probably tell…You aren't doing so well," Came a sad, yet beautifully masculine voice. No voice could possible be that smooth when my throat was so scratchy.

"I'm Willis!" I bellowed, my voice cracking several times. "I know no Mason; except for Edward Mason; he'd a friend of mine!" I announced, waiting for the chuckle and to be told I'm delirious, and that Edward Anthony Mason Cullen isn't real; but it never came. The Doctor sighed.

"Such spirit, Mr. Mason. Your Mother warned me," The honey-like voice murmured.

"Hey, Doc, what is this place? I don't remember no fever!" I declared, my English less then admirable.

"Edward!" Came the Doctor's shocked voice. _Hey, he called me Edward; did I know him on familiar terms? He said before that I was Mr. Mason…He must be shocked. Yup, I am definitely delirious if I actually thought that out. _"You are in the Hospital," He explained patiently. "You are sick with the Spanish Influenza."

I stared at him. The Spanish Influenza hit in 1918-1920, and it quickly became the 3rd Largest Plague in history. It killed 3% of the world's population; about 1.5 million people. Why did I know this all? Edward Cullen was preyed upon in the year 1918, exact date unknown. It preyed on young adults and healthy teens, something to do with the immune system or something. The good news: the Spanish Influenza only killed 3 out of 10 people! The bad news: he said the statistics aren't good, and that I am not doing good.

Beyond that, the sickness itself is awful! Hello diarrhea, nose-bleeds, aching joints, and 104 Degree F. fevers.

_I'm going to die. I'm not Edward Cullen; I am just some freak who is in love with a series who got sent back about 100 years to a time when they can't treat me._

"So…I'm going to die?" I confirmed grimly. I turned over to inspect the Doctor, and gasped. This was not just any Doctor; this is _Carlisle Cullen! _CARLISLE CULLEN: AKA BLOND DOCTOR OF ALL THAT IS VAMPIRE GLORY…ABSORBING! This is the most kind and admirable vampire in the world. And his gold eyes just added to my growing swell of certainty in my heart.

The blond Doctor was totally unaware of my current state. "Well…I, uh, I don't know," He stuttered.

"I don't have to die," I informed him. "You can save me. I've got nothing to lose!" I declared. I'm delirious, give me a break! _I wanna be a vampy! _

Carlisle looked panicked for a moment, before his expression smoothed; I realized he could take my words as being treated normally. "I assure, I will do all I can so save your life," He assured.

"EVERYTHING?" I stressed. "If I got a shot at being like you, I'll do it!"

His eyes clouded with what I think was sadness. "You don't know what you're asking," He murmured. I don't know how I heard him; maybe it was a delusion. I wouldn't be surprised.

"I know exactly what I'm asking for," I assured him. I suddenly realized I could be asking for a more sure death then I realized— I wasn't supposed to know! I should appeal to his weakness; his need for a companion. "Would it be so bad to do it to a boy with nothing to lose? You are a guaranteeing the beginning of a family! And then it would bridge onto a family; wait, when does Alice come? She's my favorite! So is Jazz—" I stopped suddenly and clamped my mouth shut as a wave of fever overcame me and I gasped at the vertigo and moaned.

Carlisle sighed in relief, thinking that I was just out of my mind, that I really didn't know what I was asking for. _Dang it! And how do I know what he is thinking like this? Oh yeah; I'm going to be able to read minds forever—YES! Wait…NO! THIS IS AWFUL! "_No! No, this is awful! I don't wanna be Edward Cullen!"_Crap! Doctor heard that and will take that the wrong way! _"Well, I REALLY want to be Edward Cullen, but at the moment, I wish I wasn't Edward Mason; I heard Edward Willis is a great kid; maybe I should be him for a day," I corrected in a mumble.

I was rewarded by a chuckle. "Rest Edward," He encouraged softly.

"Alright. But remember: give me a fiery furnace for three days over death any day!" I reminded in that scratchy, irritating voice as Carlisle walked away. I was rewarded with the sight of him stiffening slightly as he walked away.

Needless to say, as I lay in the painful, delirious fever, I didn't see him again.

Did you know you can get constipated with diarrhea? I don't know about you, but you needs strength to be able to stand that kind of constant pain in that area; you need to be able to push and not to mention the fact that I faint from the pain on it's own. But I am have a high fever and extreme fatigue so great I can't leave my bed. Now I have to fight aching joints, nose-bleeds, a stuffy nose at that, dehydration, and diarrhea. Who ever made the Spanish Influenza sure knew how to make a kid miserable.

I was in the final stage of the disease; seriously dying. Somehow, among the heat and chills, blood, and the smell of puke and waste, I knew that I wasn't going to make it. I was that one out of ten people sick with the Spanish Influenza who was going to die. I was going to be shipped off to the morgue among 50 bodies waiting for a coffin today, and probably would make my way to the bottom to rot among other rotting patients.

Yes, gloomy. But so true.

Somehow, I knew that this was it: I only had minutes left. My last conscious thoughts were: _God, for so surely there better be one, just take away the pain, the heat, the cold. Take away all feeling…Numb it all for as long as you like. I don't care anymore. _

Then it all started to numb, although I was burning for air …_Can't breathe…any air…So dark…too much darkness…_

Then almost complete numb silence, the only thing holding me on is lack of air. I was going to pass out soon. And even then, I won't be able to breath. I had taken my last breath.

Then I was warm…Not the horrid chill of the influenza, but a nice, beautiful warmth in my darkening world. And the pain was gone. I felt fine, and I remembered: _Carlisle. Carlisle had pulled through; but where is the fire? Huh, maybe they exaggerated? Maybe I'm strong._

I was congratulating myself proudly when I realized the warmth was a little too hot; like sitting too close to a fire for too long. My skin became tender and uncomfortable, and I moaned in discomfort. I tried to draw away from the fire besides me. Then I realized, just as Bella had in Breaking Dawn: the fire was inside of me.

The fire got worse; it was in my arm, I realized, and I moved my other arm, and hand, and tried to claw at the skin, to release the fire. But nothing happened.

The fire spread, and as it spread up my arm, it just got hotter and hotter. It wasn't like being roasted; it was like the first shock of touching a curling iron over and over again, combined with the aftershock of the burn and throbbing. Then it got hotter; it was the equivalent of a thousand throbs at once, and now it was all over my chest. I realized dimly I was screaming and screaming. But I couldn't find it in me to cry.

The fire in my arm was steadily growing worse as the at first warmth spread through my body, then it changed. I focused on that; that beautiful warmth. I still was hyperaware of the fire, but I could enjoy the warmth while it lasted.

All at once, my whole body was being scorched by hot coffee OVER AND OVER again. Then my arm got to the equivalent of hellish fire. People who have never felt it before will NEVER understand; it can never be compared to. It doesn't get easier to bare, God knows it never gets cooler, but you sort of learn to embrace it. You still would want to let it go in a second, but you accept the fact that nothing can be done, and that you are totally all alone and unable to receive help.

In a way, this was my welcoming to the life of a Vampire. Nobody could help me when I stepped into the world of light again. I would be totally helpless to my fellow predators.

And just like that, a piece of Edward Willis withered away, and a piece of me thought a little more like Edward Cullen.

Time had no meaning; without knowing, I had gotten too used to the thought of spending forever in this eternal misery. No, it didn't stop hurting.

I just didn't care. It wouldn't go away no matter what I did, no matter how loud I screamed. I cried out, but I didn't bed, and I didn't scream anymore. I wanted to, and there was nothing restricting you. I wasn't like Carlisle; I was just so tired! And, like I said, I just didn't care.

Then the end of the transformation took place; which meant extreme horrible, unbearable, horrific burning sensations coming in tidal waves on my heart. But with it came with a cool numbness in other areas like my feet. I never thought I'd see the day when I'd wish my feet were blocks of ice. They still weren't ice, but they were pleasantly room-temperature (or at least it felt like that to me.) In was conscious now of a voice, worrying constantly.

_--id something wrong? Shouldn't it be ending soon? Dear God, I hope he knew what he was begging for when I saw him last! Wait—he's screaming again. It must be ending! _

Although I didn't fully comprehend what he was talking about, and why he didn't seem to be talking to me yet he was still talking anyway, I did grasp the phrase: IT MUST BE ENDING!

Before this hell I would have done a happy dance in my mind. Now I was just tired and happy as I tried to shut up. It was hard, gosh-dang-it! My heart feels like a volcano. Had I really thought Coffee was hot? Really? How could ANYONE think it'd hot; it would be ice on flayed duck to me now; that is not an exaggeration.

The fire raged on, and I was in a river of lava that was directing all it's heated liquid against my most important organ: the heart. Without it, I would die in seconds.

And then…It was gone. I held my breath for fear that if infected perfectly reasonable air then the pain would come back, just to punish me.

But as I waited for the pain to comeback, I realized I could think…_Wait…I'm thinking! _I might have told myself how much I had missed myself, but I just didn't care. I could think, and I could hear was others were thinking.

Carlisle. _"What if he hates me now? What have I done? WHAT WAS I THINKING? He should have died; why did I chose him? Why not some other boy?_

I decided that although I hated him a little, and myself for encouraging him, his misery wouldn't save us now. "Doc, I'm fine. Geez, I don't enjoy hearing people declare I should be dead; well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm technically dead anyway!" I joked. That didn't help much.

"I didn't say anything!" He argued.

"Sorry, Doc, but get used to it. I can read your mind now," I explained calmly.

Carlisle suddenly stared at me warily. _"How do you know about us? How do you know you can read minds?" _

"You see, Doc, my name is really Edward Willis. Last time I checked, before I woke up as Edward Mason, I was in my bed all the way in California, in the year 2009, June 19th—" I gasped suddenly. "JUNE 20th! WHEN I WOKE UP ON JUNE 20th I WAS TRANSPORTED HERE! CARLISLE, THAT'S IT!" June 20th was Edward Mason's birthday!

Carlisle waited patiently for me to continue.

"Well, you see, I was, am, in love with this book; it's protagonists are Edward, Alice, Jasper, Emmet, Rosalie, Esme, and you, Carlisle Cullen. You are all vampires in a fictional story, and all mated—"

"Esme? Esme _Platt_? Mated?" Carlisle demanded, face shocked. "I will have a _family_? That…That is impossible! You are the last! I'm not about to go into a frenzy for family—"

"It's alright! Alice and Jasper won't be created by you, and I'll create Bella—" That is when it all came crashing down on me. My well placed illusions were gone. I was not Edward Cullen. I don't over-react, I'm not protective, I'm not brooding or strong, I'm not prim and proper, and I am sure not sexy! I AM EDWARD WILLIS! MY LAST NAME MAKES ME GIGGLE FOR GOODNESS SAKES! I'M NOT EVEN A RED-HEAD! I USED TO BE BLOND!

"_Is he alright? He looks dazed; vampires don't get dazed—"_

I stared at Carlisle, slack-jawed. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" I screamed. "WHY WOULD YOU LISTEN? THE VERY FACT THAT I KNEW WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT WHEN I BEGGED YOU INDICATED LIKE A BIG BRIGHT RED FLASHING GREEN NEON SIGN: 'HE IS WEIRD! WE DON'T WANT ANY!' I'M NOT EDWARD CULLEN! I'M NOT FABULOUS AT EVERYTHING! I AM NOT BROODING, MYSTERIOUS, OR MOODY! I'M NOT BELLA'S MATE, AND I SUCK AT LEADING PEOPLE—BE IT TO THE CANDY STORE OR FROM DANGER FOR CENTURIES TO COME!" I panicked. I glared and roared full force, "I WAS SUPPOSED TO DIE!"

I, more or less, had a temper tantrum then which, for pride's sake, I will not recount.

Carlisle was totally unprepared for my erratic newborn emotions, and so decided, thankfully, to led me ride it out. Turns out we were in some deserted forest in Wisconsin, away from all civilization, thus meaning I wouldn't kill anybody in my Newborn blood-lust.

I hated Carlisle; we both knew, deep down, that I didn't know what I was doing. I was still in shock about my new life, and I was still depressed when I realized I had lost my old life…forever. That is normal. (Stephenie Meyer's description of how Bella reacts to EVERYTHING is abnormal. Seriously, I think that in truth, Stephenie Meyer couldn't think of how Bella SHOULD react; she made Bella react how she was reacting, which wasn't fair to Bella, in my opinion) But Carlisle would never understand what it was like to try to play the leading role in one of the greatest love-stories ever told when you were the epitome of all that is stupid and pathetic. None of the qualities that made up Edward Cullen were in me; I was a failure in the making. And due to my childish emotions, I wasn't in the position to fight it like a man. Was I even that? I was only _17_! Not even the gloried age of 18, much less my favorite number 20!

I spent most of the day on my own, locked in my room, trying to remember Twilight, word for word so I would be able to refer back to it. Since I made a point of re-reading all of them at least once a week, (It actually gets very easy to read fast, you know. I can almost get done with Twilight and get halfway through New Moon if I read all day) I could almost word for word quote the books. I was satisfied with myself after an hour of dissecting my hazy, human memories.

It was about two days later that I remembered my hobby of the piano; if I was going to be Edward Cullen, I needed to at least keep up his material appearance.

I was sitting in my bed, around 7 PM, when I sighed and stalked downstairs. "Carlisle?" I asked in a dead tone. I hated being like this; always angry, always out of control and horrid to a man I had always admired and loved. But he had been a fool in changing me.

"_Yes, son?_" My heart warmed when he thought that, and I had to momentarily turn away to hide my smile.

"Would you…uh, could you…" I didn't know how to ask for a grand piano when we both know I could very easily break it, like I had broken almost everything else in this cabin.

"_Anything!_" He solemnly promised in an effort to earn my affection. He knew I could hear his reason, and he didn't care. But then again, right from the start, he hadn't cared.

"When I was human… I took lessons once a week," I began.

"_What kind of lessons?_" He was completely interested in what I had to say; it was unnerving. Everyone listened to me, focused on me, understood, then replied. But Carlisle hung on my every word, which was scary, as I wasn't saying anything worth remembering. _Another reason I wish I were still Edward Willis. _

"Piano; twice a week…It feels strange not having—"

"Say no more!" He declared out-loud, knowing full-well my tendency to over-look thoughts when I was speaking. "Listen, Edward. I know that you are depressed and sad, and as for the fact that I already call you my son, I want you to know that I will do anything to make you feel comfortable here. I'll just head into Ashland, and we can grab you a proper piano, and you can practice to your heart's content," He promised.

I blinked in shock at him. "Thanks…for everything. Before my newborn emotions take over again, I want you to know I have always admired and loved you, even before I met you. I can't help how angry I am, because I am angry; I'm not Edward Mason, or Edward Cullen…" I looked away, my emotions skyrocketing into sadness. "That very fact makes me unfit for this life."

"Listen to me: YOU are Edward Cullen, and you control your own destiny. You don't have to be a character in a story to have your own happily ever after. Remember that, Edward. And I'd much rather be with you than with this other Edward you describe."

I groaned in angst. "You don't understand!" I moaned. Then I realized something that shocked me. The room was silent, and I blocked out Carlisle's thoughts, when I finally stated my epiphany out loud. "I think I'm becoming him. I don't think it's newborn emotions that are making me act this way; I think it's fate making me do this. Or something else. Heh, it reminds me of that song…" I mumbled, then in a high pitched voice I sang, "How can I….make an Edward Cullen…OUT OF YOOOOOOOU!"

Carlisle stared at me. "You're sure that you're turning into this Edward Cullen? It doesn't sound like it to me." He had that small, Carlisle-ish smile that was his trademark.

"Sure I am!" I cheered. Then I frowned. "I'm going to have to practice my crooked smile."

"_Edward, you are Edward Willis Cullen, not Edward Mason Cullen. You don't have to smile a certain way to please a strange book that doesn't even exist yet_!" He was unnerved and confused; I could tell by the tone of his thoughts.

I gave him my best crooked smile. "But doesn't it look good? Shy, friendly, yet not too open," I explained.

Carlisle sighed. "_Whatever you say."_


	3. 2: A Disgraceful Son

**DISCLAIMER:**

Me: C'mon. You can do it!

Stephenie Meyer: I-I can't…

Me: DO IT!

Stephenie Meyer: Fine… *signs contract that gives me the Twilight Saga*

Me: !

*wakes up screaming ""*

Me: Awwwww, man!

No playlist.

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXPLICT VIOLENCE. BE AWARE!**

Chapter 2:

True to his word, thanks to Carlisle, my fingertips were flying over the keyboard as I played songs from the future; songs I pieced together through memory. Carlisle's favorite for me to play was "What I've Done" by Linkon Park. Though the song was rock, when played by the piano, acoustic, then the song was so bitter-sweet it used to bring tears to my eyes when I played it. I toyed with it, changed the tempo slow in the chorus, and adding in chords of my own, making it a beautiful symphony that only a vampire could play. This version was so much more complex and different then the original that I simply named it, "Carlisle's Soul" as the melody itself reminded me of the gentle yet strong doctor.

Carlisle saw how much I loved the piano (My last tie to the future) so he bought blank notebooks full of composing sheet about once a month so I could focus on reading the music I made also. He also bought me piles at a time of classical sheet music for me to practice and memorize. (Of course, I memorized them instantly.)

As my bouts of childish anger decreased, he showed me an old, worn checkers board, and he shyly produced hand-made chess pieces, saying he whittled a lot. This caused a whole new revolution between us: Chess.

I loved playing with Carlisle. In this game, at least, he wasn't soft or gentle. He was absolutely ruthless. (I once teasingly noted this out loud, and I swear, if Carlisle still had a working heart, he would have been beet red.) Sure, this brought on fits of anger from me, but I quickly got over it. It would be startling if I did beat Carlisle at a game he had played for centuries while I had only been introduced to it for two months, I reasoned with myself. But at least this was, I learned quickly all his strategies, and formed my own.

I don't know if you have ever watched two vampires who can literally think a mile a minute, but it's hard not to laugh. It was ridiculous how hard it is to try and beat the other at Chess. Although I could read Carlisle mind, Chess was second nature because he often played it with other doctors, and used to play it with the Volturi; in other-words, he never _had_ to think it over; he simply acted, and usually won.

After a while, he governed that it would be okay if he worked fulltime as a doctor in Ashland, since I could take care of myself now properly. He teasingly added, "You don't need a baby-sitter anymore."

I had, of course, growled, but that was to be expected. At dawn the next day he left to apply for a position as a general doctor.

This left me in my thoughts alone for longer then the usual two hours. He started work immediately, as it was hunting season, and he was alright with it. But I was not; Carlisle and I had grown close. Not quite as a Father to his Son, but two companions who are compelled to spend most of their time together.

I wondered if I should aim to be a doctor. But it was unthinkable to start now. I was too into my newborn blood lust. But later, maybe?

I was deeply troubled by this. I wanted to help, but I had no idea if I was strong enough or not to stand the blood to begin with. If I waited three hundred years to be immune to blood, like Carlisle, (Of course, Carlisle didn't wait to be immune to blood first) would I have to be constantly around the blood, or was I simply expected to resist that long?

Too many questions, and no way to experiment. I was not an option. There was no room for mistakes in my entity. I don't know how I would be able to be bear taking somebody's life.

That got me thinking. There was no way I would make it to Bella with no mistakes. Not only was it because I knew a hundred years is far too long, but the fact that fate was fighting against me, and would be every step of the way. It would try and make sure that I had my rebellion period, that I would make mistakes, that the thoughts of my fellow vampires would influence me…_How can I avoid making mistakes? How can I fight back?_

My question was never answered, and I had a sinking feeling that blood on my hands was inevitable.

"I am doomed," I realized out loud. I was glad that Carlisle was here to question me. But in case somebody did wonder what on Earth I was talking about, I finished, "No matter what happens, I will kill. I am born to be a killer, and I've been changed into the ultimate predator. The human race doesn't stand a chance."

Carlisle came back the next day, telling me how he would work the night-shift at the hospital, often the busiest, as humans obviously can't see in the dark, and would be more likely to hurt themselves them. He was slightly sad about that, and said after a moment, "_Funny how darkness seems to be our best friend; it hides us, protects us, and gives us full domain over it. But to humans, it is the symbol of evil, and restricts and often hurts them. If only they realized they have nothing to fear from the night. If only they realized…_"

"No, Carlisle," I whispered sadly. "They should fear the night. In the night, we awaken and pounce. They are safe in light, and it's wrong of us to trespass. We shouldn't try." I was referring to how we would visit human society on a regular basis when I could control my bloodlust.

"_Edward…You are good. You deserve to live among those who live in the light. I hope it doesn't take Bella to realize that, Edward."_ He thought to me sadly.

"It just might," I replied. "I'm going hunting."

* * *

I stared at the deer, completely giving into my senses and allowed myself to hunt. It still mildly disgusted me to hunt; not the blood part, but the fact that I had to kill it, and suck the blood out through two tiny holes in a jugular vain in the neck, the blood first passing through dirty, gruff fur; who knew what I was dragging into my stomach right now as I sucked away?

Anyways, I was becoming very good at distracting myself; I had to be for when I returned to society as a vampire. This way, I didn't have to worry about being the first vampire to puke (of course, lacking free-will) as I attempted to suck, and I wouldn't be condemned to a life of listening to the endless ramblings of mortals.

It's too bad that just as I had drained the young deer, a woman's thoughts penetrated my mind.

_"Oh, did I walk too far from the trail? Oh, where is Paul? It's getting dark now…oh no! This is awful! I'm going to die here—"_

I was about to run away when the smell of her blood hit me full-force. I knew what was happening to me; first my eyes would darken to a onyx black. Then a feral snarl would escape my lips, and I'd crouch and sniff the air. Then I would attack.

And then I was running; I had always been incredibly fast for a vampire; not even a vampire would have stood a chance, on guard or not.

My hands reached her first; they grabbed her arms. Her satin, egg-shell like skin gave way, as did her thin bones. My fingers met my thumb on the other end; my claw-like nails had dug through her whole arm.

Her scream dug it's way through my blood-lust, and something in me snapped. But now the right chord; what snapped was my need to foreplay this. I wanted her blood now!

I leaned forward and began to drink furiously at the wound in her arm. _Mine _is about the only thought that rang through my mind.

She struggled at first, and so while I feasted, I grabbed at her waist, and again, crushed her. Her yowls of pain could be heard a mile around; it's too bad nobody was there to hear it.

Soon she slept through my sucking and her broken bones, and she never woke up.

I didn't come to my senses until I was sure that my appetite had been sated.

But when I came back to my senses, I wished I could die as I stared at the mutilated corpse in my arms.

I had mauled her beyond any recognition, I was sure. But I would always recognize her. Since I had all but licked her wounds clean, I could see clear into her bone and muscles, and what would have disgusted Edward Willis to a degree of sickness only triggered self-disgust; I had done this. If I looked back, she had been beautiful. And she had been scared, lost, and obviously in love by the tone of her thoughts when she thought of "Paul".

I had just ended generations to come, years of humanity, and possibly cures to things I couldn't imagine.

And her blood had sustained a full new-born; she had not died with any purpose; only pointless blood-shed.

_I thought my self-hatred and hatred of Carlisle was complete. But my pathetic attempt at hated Carlisle is a tear drop to an ocean. I went too far and took a life; the first chance I get to be around humanity, and I slaughter them. I'm a disgrace. A monster. Not worthy of life. _

With this thought, my chest was racked with sobs. In all the books, Edward never cried. Not once did his weakness overtake him in such a public display of sadness. _But you're not Edward Cullen. _A voice whispered.

I tore away from the corpse and ran, fast, back to the cabin. I knew what I had to do.

"CARLISLE!" I roared.

Carlisle was reading a Latin medical journal he had just obtained from the local library in Ashland about a day ago, and was completely unprepared for my outburst. I hadn't raised my voice this loud since that first, awful day as a vampire.

"What is it, So—" He began out loud, but I couldn't bear to hear him say 'Son.' I wasn't a son to any man; any man would disown me after what I had just done. I was a killer; Carlisle had resisted at all costs. I had been weak.

I sobbed and screamed, "DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Carlisle looked hurt.

"_I-I'm sorry. I assumed too much—"_

"For once, stop taking the blame! It's me, it's always me!" I screamed. "You don't have blood on your hands; you didn't steal the happiness of a couple. You didn't end generations. You didn't drink the blood of an innocent girl! You deserved to have a second chance; to heal others for all eternity. I, on the other hand, have only accomplished thievery; I thieved away a life. Tell me, Carlisle, what have you done to deserve a son like that? A killer, a disgrace, a disappointment, a—"

"These books you read, the ones you have memorized…Did they tell you anything about my past?" Carlisle interrupted patiently.

"It told me your record was perfect. It told me you never screamed. It told me what a kind, compassionate man you are. What else is there to know?"

"Do you remember how I discovered the vegetarian diet?" Carlisle pressed.

"I-I-yes. You were starving yourself; something I might try," I added bitterly.

"Stop distracting yourself. Don't you understand? I do understand what you are going through; I went through it myself. I was trying to kill myself. What I want you to understand is that you are not alone, Edward. I know what you are feeling, and I fully understand your distress. And as much as this hurts my conscience, I want you to forget her."

"No." It was the first word I had spoken that was at a normal volume. "I will never forget, Carlisle. The difference of what we are feeling is that you never gave in. Your self-hatred was never justified. Mine _is_. I deserve to be burned at the stake, then healed, and burned again. In fact, Carlisle, have mercy, and kill me _now_. Tear me apart and burn me so that I will never have to hurt another human being again. They don't deserve me, and I'll just be a tragic memory of your past. Please, just end my miserable existence!" I pleaded.

"No, Edward. Whether you realize it or not, I need you," Carlisle stated harshly. Then he softened. "Can't you see you're the best part of my life? Whether you are trying to kill me or not, I could never hurt something I've loved. I know you are hurting. I know you are disappointed in yourself. But let it be known; Edward Willis Cullen will never take another life again."

And for a moment, I forgot about Edward's rebellion period. I thought, for a moment, I can control my future. It's not set in stone; Alice can testify to that.

I simply looked at me, and he dared a smile; a crooked smile. It's meaning was not lost on me. He was telling me: _It's alright. Grieve, let go of this sadness, and be the best you can be. _

But no longer would Edward Mason be the best I could be. I was my own person. Even if I was becoming moody and a mysterious, I would never be Edward Mason Cullen. From now on, I was Edward Willis Cullen.


	4. 3: Epiphanies and Mind over Blood

**DISCLAIMER:**

Me: C'mon. You can do it!

Stephenie Meyer: I-I can't…

Me: DO IT!

Stephenie Meyer: Fine… *signs contract that gives me the Twilight Saga*

Me: !

*wakes up screaming ""*

Me: Awwwww, man!

_Playlist:_

Hero Heroine-Boys Like Girls

In the End-Linkon Park

Incomplete-Backstreet Boys

You're Not Sorry-Taylor Swift

Chapter 3:

As I straightened out my "Twilight Time-Line" in one of Carlisle's absences, I realized that my Newborn Period had almost over when I had attacked that girl. That meant I should have been in control.

That just strengthened my resolve to utterly loath myself.

I also realized that Alice was to be changed into a vampire this year. I wanted to save her, so badly. I wanted to tell Carlisle to save her. But I realized I was in no condition to travel around humans. I was marooned here , about seven miles from Wisconsin. Carlisle certainly couldn't leave me here alone, as I was still not stable, and it would be strange for him to leave, then come back just in time to disappear again. (Esme was to lose her baby about a year from now, and throw herself over the cliff, and we couldn't just leave Carlisle's *future* mate in the dust, could we?)

My heart ached for Alice, who would soon awake to a cold, lonely world, only flashes of intuition on her mind, no life to know and remember, nobody to save her from her fate.

_You are pitiful. You know what is going to happen up until about 90 years into the future, and you can't change any of it. _I growled to myself.

I felt a wave of hopelessness wash over me. Replace Bella with any twilight fan, and she would know what to do to prevent Edward from being a complete idiot like in the Twilight Saga. She'd know what precautions to prevent herself from falling for the wrong guys, and keep Edward from being (sometimes) a pig!

_Why can't I? What am I missing? What is keeping me from saving them? Didn't Charles beat Esme? Can't I just tell Carlisle to go and change her before she gets pregnant, before she gets even more hurt? Why couldn't I go take Alice from the insane asylum while she gets seriously hurt? _

For the first time since I began chanting these questions in my mind like broken tape-recorder, I got an answer.

_Why do you love Twilight? The characters and plot. Each and every character is strong and unique in their own way. Who am I to steal away their courage, their trials and their happy-endings? Alice would never have found Jasper when he needed her the most had this story played out any differently. The reason why I can't interfere is because fate already knew: it's their story, not mine. _

I had thought for one wonderful moment that my hopelessness had a purpose. Then I hardened. _I shouldn't be here. Why didn't Carlisle have ANY foresight? I've been a freak and a failure since the beginning. What is life worth anyway? It's just as Edward described it: a dark valley at midnight, stars, points of meaning, but never quite anything worthwhile. Except Bella won't light up my sky for long. She'll realize soon the best part of me is my, admittedly, gorgeous red hair. Then she'll see that I am weak, self-absorbed, and although I won't ever be able to read her mind, but have somehow been in her head for years, admittedly. And then she'll be gone, and she won't come back._

I shivered as I re-listened to my thoughts. _What have I become? Some angst ridden vampire. What happened to that resolve to be Edward Willis Cullen? Here I am, being retardedly easy to provoked by my own thoughts. I used to laugh at rants like those, but even now, as I see it for what it is, I can't find it in my to laugh. _

I stared outside at the dawn, I began to sob quietly, frustrated that tears would not come.

I have hated myself, I have hated Carlisle, but never before have I hated Twilight itself. Never before have I loathed Stephenie Meyer's brilliance. Why do I hate it, you may ask?

Because Stephenie Meyer made my future hell just to contrast it to Bella. I have 94 years to go before life gets good, and even then, drama after drama just to satisfy an audience of idiotic, vampire-obsessed teenagers. And because of my own stupidity, I had lost myself, the playful, naïve Willis kid I used to hate, sinking further into the remaking of Edward Mason.

"_I hope Edward still isn't angry about that that human memory; I didn't meant to hound him so relentlessly about the future. I was just curious—oh, shoot. He can probably hear me."_

_Am I really so easily bothered? _I mused. I remembered what had upset me. He had asked me about the medicine industry, and I had been overcome with a memory of my little sister, Adele, at age six, being diagnosed with Cancer.

I know I don't seem like it, but when Adele died, we all tried to forget it. We tried so hard that eventually, we did. Humans, like Edward once noted, are healed by time, no matter what. No matter how much it hurts, you learn to deal with it. You learn how to face the facts, and you learn how to hide the pain. Because honestly? Adele died a month later. She was far to into Cancer for chemo to do much more then kill her and make it worse.

So I blocked it out. I got so good at it, that when people asked me how many were in my family, I could honestly answer "Three" without even remembering Adele ever existed.

Adele wasn't perfect. She wasn't sunny, she wasn't gentle, she wasn't an angel. She was always angry; a kittens anger. I remember the freckles on her fair nose, and she hated them. She used to tell me to count them to see if they were decreasing. Then she'd throw a tantrum as the answer disappointed her.

But everyone loved her. They never showed it, but they couldn't help but be fond of the fiery little girl.

I remember how she used to adore her long, white blond hair. She would comb it 200 strokes before bed, and 100 before she left her room. She'd adorn it with ribbons and glitter, and sometimes even gems when she could.

She also loved the sun; she loved playing and swimming. But not just anywhere; it had to be outside. Anything artificial wasn't good.

We were careless. We didn't know how serious the risk of skin-cancer was. The biggest concern we had was that her skin refused to tan since she didn't go out enough to tan, so instead she would just sunburn.

Then, at age 5, she started getting moles, on her legs and torso. Only a few. We didn't think much of it. Then they started acting differently, the edges becoming ragged and different colors of brown. They started widening, growing, and she got more. Then it started to hurt. I don't know how, but Adele would be crying all the time, and she got sick a lot.

Then we finally took her to a doctor. That was when my memory.

_We all sat together on a bench, me trying to comfort Adele as she cried in fear. The Doctor had asked our parents to speak in private after the tests on Adele's skin had received results._

_"Shhh….It's alright. You're alright. Nothing is wrong," I whispered to her._

_Then the Doctor came back, frowning. "Come, Adele and Edward. Your parents want to speak to you privately."_

_That was when I knew. I knew that something was wrong, and that something was wrong with Adele. We knew it before, and we had waited too long. Adele could have cancer; she could be dying. _

_It was just like the movies and books: mother crying, father hugging her, though tears are in his own eyes. Then our mother rushed forward and hugged Adele. Dad decided to speak then._

_"She has Melanoma; too into the cancer to survive. They…They are going to try Chemo, but the chances aren't looking so good. In fact, the chances sh-she'll survive are…small," His voice broke on the last word._

_I stared at Adele, and I began to cry. Hard. Adele didn't deserve to die. She was our salvation. She'd been a light in four miscarriages in a row. She was too full of life; she was the only one who never wasted it, the one who took full advantage of it._

_I hugged Adele and Mom hard then, not even hiding my tears. I was only 11 years; too young to lose a loved one._

_"You'll make it," I whispered desperately. "You'll survive, Adele."_

_Adele just cried harder._

I sobbed a little at the memory. Chemo had been the final blow on poor Adele; she lost everything. The sun had betrayed her, and she lost her silky curls. And most of all, she lost hope.

I took a shuddering breath, and drew upon my training to forget Adele to regain composure.

"_Edward?_" Carlisle called.

"I'm afraid," I said, knowing he would hear me, even though my room was on the second floor.

"_Of what?_" Carlisle asked, his mental voice puzzled, yet concerned.

"I'm scared of what I've become, of what I'm becoming. I'm not Edward Willis anymore, and it's only been two years."

"_Edward…_" Carlisle sighed out-loud. "_I don't know what to say. It shouldn't be possible for you to change so drastically. Your mind should be frozen. You can learn so much, but you can't really mature. I don't understand why you are so different."_

"Easy. I'm in the wrong story." I laughed cruelly. "And I never answered your question about modern medicine. It's amazing what some people come up with, yet no cure to the common cold. We've cured just about everything….Except Cancer." I chuckled humorlessly. "It's the number one most discussed disease, in my opinion. And the most incurable. We have ways to help. Some escape. They use Chemo; it's some sort of radiation that poisons you, but not enough to kill you, but it kills Cancer cells. It's miserable. One weak you are so weak you can barely move, the next you are stuffing your face with awful hospital food. You lose everything; you even lose your hair! You know how I know, Carlisle?" I demanded. "My little sister, Adele, at age 6 died from it."

"_I…I-I don't know what to say to that. I feel for your loss."_ And he did sound sympathetic. And for some reason, out of all the people who had said that to me, I believed him, and it comforted me.

My bloodlust weakened over time, and so Carlisle decided to test me, and took me to Ashland to go shop for some clothes. I wore one of Carlisle's faded gray suits and Carlisle had smiled at me, and winked, saying, "Black would do better."

I almost rolled my eyes and demanded, "Who are you, Alice?" When I caught myself and rolled my eyes, but didn't say anything.

The scent of potent, human blood burned and raged at my throat and tingled all of my sense and I would say it took every ounce of my willpower to stay put and not kill them all, because you wouldn't believe me. It's like key-lime pie inside of your mouth, but you can't swallow. You can taste, but you can't, in a way, touch it the way you want to. Only you are starving and haven't eaten for months, (Even though I had made a glutton myself only hours before) and your entire being is craving for that specific pie. But no, you settle instead for spitting it out and eating yucky, crunchy and water watermelon.

Yeah, does being a Vampire sound so good now?

I focused on continuing my polite conversation with Carlisle as we walked leisurely on the path through town to the shop.

It was a slow affair, and to my surprise, my thirst began to waver. It was getting easier. But not as much as I wished. It was still too hard to be safe.

But I was desensitizing slightly, but the very sights of humans made my mouth water with tasteless venom.

Because Carlisle tipped so generously, my wardrobe would be ready and prepared in a week. I grimaced; like Bella, I was thrifty, and to waste so much money...Carlisle was very insistent on me wearing proper clothes that fit. When the kind, tasty (Did I say tasty? Why, I meant _lovely_) woman working at the counter asked for what purpose we were in need of such a load of clothes, Carlisle replied easily, "He's a distant cousin, too young to live on his own, and so he has been sent here to live in Ashland in the event of his parents dying in some Influenza. The people of that small town burned down the house in an effort o rid the house of any left-over sickness while he was at the funeral. Quite literally lost everything."

The woman gazed at me with sympathy, even though the story was perfectly ridiculous. "You poor dear," She murmured, and leaned forward to place her hand on my arm in a comforting gesture. Now, for lack of better word, it did take every ounce of my will-power not to pounce her. Carlisle gazed at me with sympathy, only for a whole different reason.

"_We'll be leaving soon. Just bear it a moment longer." _Carlisle soothed.

I nodded slightly, trying not to let a feral growl escape my tightly closed lips at the woman. At least her thoughts were kind.

"_Poor dear! Such a nice face, yet his eyes are so dead…Maybe some time in society would do him good…"_ She mused.

I shuddered at the thought of going more public then this. I wouldn't be able to take much of it. I was barely better then a newborn!

_I don't have a right to be here, endangering these innocent, peaceful creatures_, I moaned to myself.

Needless to say, I nearly ran out of Ashland. The thoughts I struck up were amusing for about five seconds. Then I simply tuned them out.

_"—is that gentleman going_?"

_"—e doing with Dr. Cullen? They're both so handsome….relations_?"

"_I hope he does visit town often; I could do with more doses of those godly eyes._"

"_Did he smile at me, or did I imagine it_?"

"_I hope Lindsey doesn't pay much attention to him. A guy like that could seriously ruin—_"

"_Such hair! Glorious_!"

I smirked when we were out of town, and good-naturedly informed Carlisle as we strolled about a mile or so from Ashland, "It seems you have some competition for the hearts of many young ladies, according to their thoughts."

"_I knew you would_," Carlisle laughed. "_The distraction is welcome, mind you_."

"I know. I've heard your irritation before," I casually told him. Carlisle hated how the nurses would gaze and flirt shamelessly with him. Whether it was mentioned often in Twilight or not, Carlisle was an English gentleman from the 1600; I knew it bothered him the way ladies conducted themselves. I laughed at the thought of what Carlisle would think of when he arrived at the hospitals in Forks. It would be a nightmare, perhaps.

"_Why so giddy?_" Carlisle queried.

"Why not? I did it! I braved it all; the thoughts, my natural shyness, and the bloodlust. I'm King of the World!" I declared.

Carlisle beamed at me. "_I'm glad you've found some peace in yourself, my Son._"

I beamed back. "Me too; me too."


End file.
